


Disgrace

by Jinx72



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I think their mother was probs a badass, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, idek what i'm doing, the clan elders are jerks, wahey, yet another take on Genji's "death"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: They told  him it was his final test. That this would prove he had what it takes to lead the Shimada Empire.But, why, oh why did they ask him to do this?





	Disgrace

_Kill him._  
The orders still echoed around in his skull, bouncing painfully. They said it was his final test. To truly prove that he was fit to take his father’s place as leader of the Shimada Empire. But he didn’t miss the distaste in their voices or the contempt on their faces when they began to speak of his brother.  
_If he remains, he will destroy us from the inside, Hanzo._  
He didn’t believe it, refused to. Genji was many things. Lazy, self-pandering, uninterested in his duties and constantly running off in the night to party or otherwise escape his role, but the clan elders didn’t see the other side of Genji. Fun, kind, willing to sneak snacks to him in the middle of the night when his dinner had been withheld. The one who tried to teach himself the violin to keep his brother entertained even though he was terrible at it. The one who’d climb out the window with him to lie on the roof and watch the stars. The one who laughed loudly, who didn’t have to filter his feelings like Hanzo did. The one with the broad smile, which always quirked up to the left. The elders, the servants, the guards, the other countless people which filled the Shimada palace, they were clan members. They were under Hanzo’s rule, part of his empire, but Genji?  
Genji was his family.  
_He will destroy_ you, _Hanzo._  
Ever since their father had died, leaving a gaping void for Hanzo, as the oldest, to fill, he felt them growing distant. Between him and his brother, and their mother, too. She had become extremely reclusive after their father’s death, taking to staying in her room and occasionally traversing the corridors at night. She was a wraith, a ghost of the woman she once was. And she knew that despite her marriage, the clan elders did not see her as a true Shimada. Hanzo knew she was afraid for her life. The elders had called her expendable.  
Truly, Hanzo did not live in a kind world.

So now he confronted his brother. He had walked into the dojo they sparred in as children and found him waiting, kneeling with his katana across his lap, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell steadily, calmly, but Hanzo could see the crease in his brow. The worry. Genji knew as well as he did what Hanzo’s orders were.  
Hanzo entered near-silently, the only sound being the door sliding closed behind him. Genji stirred at the sound, looking up lightning-fast, on edge. His warm brown eyes, so often filled with jollity, were wide. Fear? Most likely.  
Hanzo’s hand drifted to his side, hanging close to his sword but not grasping the hilt. His breathing was quick and shaky, but he stepped into the room, into the light, none the less.  
He froze.

The room was silent, the brothers locking eyes.  
A silent exchange went on between them, Genji silently imploring him, begging for his life. Hanzo’s eyes shone with the pain, the conflict he felt in his soul. At his turmoil, the dragons bound to his soul growled, shifting beneath his skin. He looked down, unable to hold his brother’s gaze.  
“Hanzo,” he said softly.  
“You know why I’m here, Genji,” Hanzo interrupted, trying to hide the shake in his voice. Genji’s face fell, his eyes growing bright. “Brother,” he quietly begged, rising to his feet.  
Hanzo didn’t know whether to run or fight. He wanted to save his brother but knew that death awaited both of them if he did. He looked up, and noticed the way the dust danced in the afternoon light which filtered through the paper walls. Genji stared at him, openly afraid, his grip on his katana loose but ready. “There must be another way,” he implored, stepping back, opening more space between them.  
“If I let you go now, they _will_ hunt you down,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on his brother. “The only other option you have… is to join me. To be the person they bred us to be.”  
Even as he spoke those words, Hanzo could feel something in his chest break as he watched his brother’s face change. They both knew Genji would never do that.  
The silence was heavy.  
“…I can’t,” Genji murmured, looking anywhere but his brother’s face.  
“I know…” Hanzo whispered. As much as he hated the way his voice wobbled and cracked, Hanzo couldn’t help but feel relief that he felt that way. He didn’t want to distance himself. He didn’t want to feel nothing. If he felt nothing about this then he’d truly become a monster.  
“I will strike you a deal,” Hanzo said, stepping towards his brother, who stiffened, ready to back away.  
“…Go on,” Genji prompted anxiously.  
“We spar. If you defeat me, you can go. I will make sure you will be let go. You must disappear. You cannot stay here, you can no longer be a Shimada in even name, but you will be free.”  
“…And if _you_ defeat _me?”_ Genji whispered, his voice dying away before he finished his sentence.  
“I…” Hanzo trailed off, frowning. “I do not know.”  
“You kill me?”  
A beat of silence filled the room.  
“I pray you win,” Hanzo said plainly, drawing his katana in a fluid, practiced movement.  
Genji closed his eyes, drew in a steady breath, and took up a ready fighting stance. They blinked, in sync. Then they launched themselves at each other, swords ready.

The swords rung out with clear, bell-like peals as the blades struck.  
_A tiny baby in their mother’s arms, soundly asleep, oblivious to the curious older brother peering over the bed to see. Their mother’s tired laughter as she lets him hold the baby._  
Clash.  
_A little boy racing through the gardens, dodging sakura trees and charging through flowerbeds. Laughing as his older brother chases him._  
Parry.  
_A boy at an arcade machine, triumphant as he beats the high score, turning to his older brother, ecstatic. Laughing at his own immaturity as he sets the name to something inappropriate._  
Dodge.  
_A teenager at the spring festival, dragging his brother by the hand to look at the stalls. Convinces them to get candy floss. Makes them sit under the stars and watch the fireworks._  
Thrust.  
_A young man, hair now dyed a glaring lime green, shoving his face with ramen as he sits across from his brother in a small restaurant, which was somehow still open in the middle of the night. They’d slipped out of their beds and into the town when the guards weren’t looking._  
Slash.  
_A young man draped over his brother’s shoulders, snoring his head off, in an alcohol induced sleep as his brother tries to sneak back into the palace after bringing him back from a party._  
**Stab.**

Hanzo staggered backwards, letting the katana clatter to the floor. Blood not his own pooled across the floor. The torn banner on the dojo wall before him shifted as the limp form of his brother slid down the wall and collapsed.  
"I'm… sorry, anija…" his brother murmured.  
Hanzo fell to his knees before his brother's broken body, staring in horror at the blood on his hands. Staining his skin. Staining his soul.  
"Genji…" he choked out. "Genji, I'm so sorry. Genji… what have I done?"  
"It's not… it's not your… your…"  
Genji never finished his sentence.  
Hanzo looked up at his brother and saw the glassy eyes, the still, unmoving chest, the blood everywhere, and he _knew._

Gently, with a calm and reverence that betrayed this swirling storm of emotions in his skull, Hanzo reached out and closed his brother's eyes.  
Beneath his skin, the dragons roared. 

His hands fell into his lap, and Hanzo watched them shake. His hands were normally remarkably still. Something splashed down onto the silk of his gi. With one shaking hand, Hanzo reached up and touched his cheek. It came back wet.  
Crying. He was crying. But… he didn't _cry._ Crying showed weakness. Weaknesses were exploited.  
His eyes fell onto his brother again and the tears increased.  
"W-what have I…?" he repeated in desperation, waiting for Genji to reply, to move, to do something, anything. _'Why won't you say anything?'_ he implored internally. _'Why won't you open your eyes?'_  
"It is a shame he would not listen to reason," a cool voice said. Hanzo staggered to his feet, whirling around and facing the intruder, tense as a bowstring. Without him realising, five elders of the clan had entered the room, and stood by the door in a fan-shape, effectively blocking Hanzo in. He stared at them, thoughts whirling. _'Listen to reason? Listen to_ reason?'  
"You have done well, Hanzo," another one of the elders said, a proud smile on his face.  
That threw the young man off.  
"Done well?" he questioned. _'What do you mean, done well? I killed him, I killed my brother. That is not to be praised, that is the mark of a monster. What do you mean,_ done well?!’  
One of the other elders sighed with false regret. "He wasn't destined for this life. He was putting us in danger. But you, Hanzo," she stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have proven you have what it takes to lead the Shimada Empire."  
"I have what it takes?" Hanzo repeated dryly. He roughly brushed off the hand. "I have what it takes to murder innocents blindly in the name of _reputation?"_  
He spat out the last word, stepping back and turning away, picking up his katana. His eyes fell on Genji again, and unbearable pain stabbed through his heart. Tears fell freely and his shoulders drew together tightly.  
"Hanzo…" the elder said warningly.  
_'They look so proud, like this is the best thing I've ever done, but all I did was murder the only one who cared about me. Who cared about me and not this stupid fucking inheritance!"_ he thought, a choked sob escaping him as he pressed a hand to his mouth to try and suppress it. He was repulsed to find that his hand still had Genji's blood on it, leaving the damning taint on his face as well.  
_'What have I done?'_  
"Hanzo, if something is wrong, speak now and we will remove the problem."  
_'Remove the problem.'_ It was always _'remove the problem.'_ Hanzo's grip on his katana tightened.  
"What have I done?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with grief.  
He could hear the concerned murmurings of the elders behind him. The dragons shifted and strained against his skin, sensing his emotional turmoil and almost demanding to be released.  
"You have done a great thing for the clan," one elder said, and unseen by them, Hanzo's frown deepened.  
"You have ensured the safety of the empire from within."  
Hanzo's lip curled into a snarl. _'How dare they?'_  
"You have removed that insolent fool from- "  
"That insolent fool is _my brother!"_ Hanzo roared, whirling around to face them and raising the katana, ready to strike. "And you will _not_ speak of him that way!"  
The room was dead silent for a few moments.  
"Hanzo," the first elder said in a low, warning tone, but he could see the fear in his eyes. "Don't do anything that you will regret."

_'Too late.'_

Hanzo threw back his head and laughed humourlessly, a horrible, terrible laugh that carried around the room, an echo of the insanity threatening to overtake the young man. "It is too late for that now!" he shouted manically, a mad glint in his eye. “Too late!”  
Then, with a hysterical laugh, the man broke. He screamed, raising his sword, summoning the power of the dragons that had been shifting and writhing beneath his skin. The two, great, blue spirit dragons burst forth in a whirlwind of destruction and violence, roaring and snarling in a shared fury. The elders screamed, trying to run. Guards and servants came running to see what the problem was.  
By the time Hanzo was finished and the dragon spirits had retreated back into his soul, none stood before the broken young man with the mad eyes.

_‘I must go, I must run from here. They’ll kill me for this. I need to get out of Hanamura, out of Japan. I must run, now. Now, before they end me. I have to get out of here. I need to get out. I can’t stay here any longer. Oh, God, what have I done?’_  
These thoughts cycled around and around in his head as Hanzo ran from the room, from the death and destruction he single-handedly caused. If any guards tried to stop him, they were cut down at the speed of lightning.  
Hanzo ran straight to his room, and stabbed the katana into the floorboards in the centre of the room. He didn't want that weapon anymore. 

He gathered things with the desperation and hurry of a wanted man, shoving a few possessions in a small bag. He didn't really think of what they were. His hands knew these things were important and so he took them. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Hanzo grabbed his precious bow and quiver off the wall where they hung. He’d always been more proficient at archery, anyway.  
"Hanzo?" a gentle voice asked.  
Hanzo whirled around, instinct drawing an arrow and he nearly fired, until he realised it was his mother standing in the doorway. He didn't loosen the bowstring, but didn't release the arrow. He held it there, and stared.  
He must have looked like a demon. A complete mess, covered in blood, and the look of madness in his eyes.  
"I killed him," Hanzo said plainly, tears still streaking down his face and blurring his vision. "I killed my brother because they said to and I've never regretted anything I've ever done more."  
His mother's eyes were touched with an unbearable sadness, and with sympathy. "I did not ever believe in this life, for you, for Genji, for your father," she said softly, stepping into the room.  
"What are you going to do?"  
_'I have to run.'_  
"I am running," Hanzo said, echoing his thoughts, backing away to the window, releasing the tension of the bowstring slightly. "I have also killed five elders, and a number of guards and servants." He laughed, hollow and humourless. "There is no redemption for a man like me."  
His mother stepped closer, gently wiping away Hanzo's tears with her palm, taking away some of the blood as well.  
"This is your decision," she said sagely. "For the first time, this is truly your own decision. No elder or teacher can tell you what to do now. And never forget this: any man or woman deserves redemption if they are willing to seek it. Now, go, my son, and know that I am truly sorry that this was your life."  
Hanzo lingered in his mother's touch for a moment more before they both drew away. There were shouts, footsteps. People were coming. His mother turned and drew the sword from the floor, and brandished it. "Go, Hanzo," she said in her quiet voice. "Go, and do not return. There is no more for you here."  
"No," he agreed, his voice thick with grief and regret. "There is not."  
As his mother turned and faced the door, Hanzo unstrung his bow in a fluid movement brought by years of training, slung his bow over his back and gracefully climbed out the window, down into the courtyard and away over the high walls of the garden, leaving his life behind, disappearing into the night like a shadow.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for school, actually. Originally based off a prompt called 'through their eyes' where we had to take a highly dramatic situation from the point of view of a character and go through their thoughts as it unfolded. My fic didn't quite meet the prompt's requirements but my English teacher likes it, so I got that going for me, which is nice.  
> I gave it to her without any explanation of its genre so she now calls it 'Japanese melodrama.'  
> I didn't even know that was a thing but wahey here we are.


End file.
